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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27365923">I Suppose I Deserve That</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardic_Bat/pseuds/Bardic_Bat'>Bardic_Bat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Don't Starve (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Family, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, No Sex, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Redemption, found family time</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:39:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,533</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27365923</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardic_Bat/pseuds/Bardic_Bat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Maxwell has to figure out how to survive in the Constant, what new creations await him...and how to socialize and get along with the people who hate him the most. Or at least, he has to figure out how to make they tolerate him long enough for all of them to get out of here.<br/>No need to get any closer....</p><p>(This is basically an excuse for me to write my headcanon of Maxwell being the oldest of the characters and therefore, obviously, everyone's dad ((except Wilson heh)). Expect fluff and emotions and angst.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maxwell &amp; Webber (Don't Starve), Maxwell &amp; Wendy (Don't Starve), Maxwell &amp; Willow (Don't Starve), Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve), Wurt &amp; Maxwell (Don't Starve)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Introductions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He had designed this place- one would think he would fair the best in the Constant. He knew most of its creatures, the weather, the sun, the moon and even knew the Darkness' first name. Nothing here could phase him, nothing could deter his sanity. His world was nothing compared to Them.<br/>
</p><p>Maxwell died often.<br/>
</p><p>It was frustrating, gruesome work, mostly. Chopping wood, mining for stones and gold, digging up graves, fending off hounds or spiders or heavens knew what else. Well, not the heavens- he knew what else.<br/>
</p><p>But Maxwell still died often.<br/>
</p><p>He was frail, in ways he didn't expect. Maybe it was his time on the Throne, maybe it was something to do with how old he would be on earth, or maybe it was just who he was. He was as a thin as a stick, and just as easily snapped as one.<br/>
Sometimes, he felt a kinship with the twigs he collected.<br/>
He stared at one now, in his hands, as small as his own wrist. It was tiny, thin, and so… fragile. Was that what he was? The amazing Maxwell, a magician capable of calling upon the shadows, of fragmenting his mind… was <em>fragile?<em><br/>
</em></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Perhaps psychically.<br/>
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>With a huff, he stows them away in his backpack, not bothering to follow that line of thought. His shadow puppet trailed behind him, idle, but ready to defend if need be. That one would only be there for a few more hours, and currently, he had no nightmare fuel left to summon another.<br/>
It was just him after that. Him and the body he inhabited.<br/>
Maybe Maxwell's sanity was suffering somewhat- he wasn't usually so… existential. It could have been how long he was alone, or the endless nights, the fear of Charlie, or just staring at the twigs for too long.<br/>
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Maxwell starts suddenly, standing from the ground. He hadn't realized he had been crouching for so long, and there was only so much time before nightfall. He needed find a place to rest the night.<br/>
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He brushes off his pants and begins to hike in whatever direction he fancies, seeing as there were no roads nearby. He had that damned gramophone song stuck in his head again. He supposed an eternity of listening to it would cause it to become something of an earworm.<br/>
Maybe it was the song, or the existential dread he had been feeling, or simply the hellscape of a world, but Maxwell didn't notice the fire light ahead.<br/>
He stumbled into the small camp- there was a firepit, some items left out, and a few logs and some cut grass pulled up to sit on. But otherwise it was utterly abandoned. He paused, looking at the fire level - dangerously low- , and the tools scattered about. It was clear someone had been here recently. He fiddles with the edge of his glove, trying to make a decision.<br/>
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>If Maxwell stayed, he would see another person, another person in the Constant, and he would have company, someone to talk to, perhaps even collaborate with.<br/>
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>If he went, then he wouldn't have to fear attack from whoever it was. There was a very high likelihood it was one of the survivors he had sent to the constant in his time. He couldn't imagine that any of them would be happy to see him.<br/>
Before he could choose there was a rustle in the woods, the crack of a twig on the ground and then there was a person stepping into the firefight.<br/>
A very familiar person. The other man was quite a bit shorter than Maxwell - most people were- with spikey, wild hair, bags under the eyes and white sleeves once pristine, rolled to the elbows.<br/>
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>"Wilson Higgsbury! Fan-" he didn't get half way through his sentence before he was interrupted by the clatter of logs, and a fist to his face.<br/>
Maxwell stumbles back, landing in front of the log that had been pulled up to sit on, shaking his head. Thankfully, nothing was bleeding but he wouldn't be surprised if something did start.<br/>
</p><p>Wilson shook his hand, and then clenched it again, ready to throw another punch.<br/>
Maxwell raised his hands, ready to deflect another punch.<br/>
The fire died a little more, sparking down to embers.<br/>
</p><p>The fight was momentarily forgotten as both men stumbled to put more fuel on the fire, cut grass and logs alike. The flames spurted, once twice and then the grass caught, the heat beginning to lick at the wood added.<br/>
</p><p>"...what do you want?" Wilson asked, terse.<br/>
</p><p>"Nothing. Really. I swear," Maxwell said, spreading his hands in an apologetic gesture.<br/>
</p><p>"Oh really?"<br/>
</p><p>"Pal. I'm in no position to be tricking you or making demands."<br/>
</p><p>"What's that supposed to mean?" Wilson's eyes narrowed, staring at Maxwell.<br/>
</p><p>"I'm in the same position as you. You saw me panic when that fire was going to go out. Charlie doesn't take it easy on me," Maxwell said, giving a dry chuckle. It didn't sound very mirthful.<br/>
</p><p>"....Charlie?" Wilson asked after a long moment of silence. He slowly settles onto the log opposite of Maxwell.<br/>
Maxwell breathes a sigh of relief.<br/>
</p><p>"Yes. Charlie. You know, the Night Monster- he thing that kills you in the dark," Maxwell gestured vaguely to the darkness outside of their ring of light. Slowly he settled onto his own log.<br/>
</p><p>"I didn't know the night monster had a name," Wilson admitted.<br/>
</p><p>"Oh, pal. I could tell you plenty of things you don't know."<br/>
</p><p>"Well, yes, you did- wait," Wilson cut himself short, shaking his head, "How did you survive? I saw you crumble to dust in front of my eyes." Privately, he thought that Maxwell might just do that again, with how frail he looked.<br/>
</p><p>"Honestly, I have no clue," Maxwell said, adding a few extra twigs to the fire. "All I know is I've ended up in my own creation. How did you get back here? Last I saw of you, you were on the Throne."<br/>
</p><p>"I was released from the Throne. By a lady, who I guess is Charlie? And she sent me back here, to this endless torment," Wilson explained, poking around in the dirt.<br/>
</p><p>"So she's on the Throne now, huh? Bugger," Maxwell said softly, shaking his head. "Thought maybe there was human left in her."<br/>
</p><p>"...there might be," Wilson said, shrugging, "You never know. Looks like you've got some left in you- ah...well, not that there's much of you left." He wasn't usually one for sarcasm or insulting jabs, but just this once!<br/>
</p><p>Maxwell gave a dry laugh at that, "I suppose you're right!" He was him as a skeleton after all, and there was an air of fragileness about him.<br/>
A silence fell between the two as they stared at the flames, occasionally adding fuel to it.<br/>
Maxwell uncharacteristically scuffed his shoe against the ground. He could see the stark advantages of working with someone here in the Constant. It would be easier to gather and find materials, survive and plan their next moves.<br/>
</p><p>Well. That was if Wilson even wanted to see his face. He could completely understand if the scientist wanted to part ways after this night.<br/>
</p><p>"Maxwell," Wilson said, "I think we need to work together."<br/>
</p><p>"I'm sorry, what?"<br/>
</p><p>"I thought you might be resistant to the idea, but theres many benefits! Scientifically speaking-"<br/>
</p><p>"No, I heard what you said. I'm not opposed to it….merely surprised. I was thinking much the same thing," Maxwell explained, holding up a hand.<br/>
</p><p>"Oh," Wilson said, "Well. We're on the same page then. Good. Tomorrow we will have to build a science machine, and then start prototyping…" Wilson began to ramble off the activities and ideas, and the best way to set up.<br/>
</p><p>Maxwell knew he should be listening. Wilson had far more experience surviving in this world than he had, and it could be valuable. But he couldnt bring himself to do it.<br/>
Thoughts tumbled over each other in his head, but one was the most dominant- why even agree to work with him? Maxwell was the reason Wilson was here, the reason Wilson had to be on the Throne. By all means, Maxwell had expected to be burning in that fire.<br/>
He was still a little surprised that he wasn't, and more surprised he saw the sun rise. </p><p>
  <em>
    <em></em>
  </em>
</p><p>He wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed, but it wasn't winter yet, so there was that.<br/>
Maxwell was still baffled as to how it happened. Or how he was still alive. Or how in the world he and Wilson had needed up tolerating one another to reach this point.<br/>
</p><p>Well, how Wilson ended up tolerating him. Maxwell found the scientist endearing, if sometimes overzealous and scientifically...inaccurate. Whatever the case was with Wilson, the two had managed to work together long enough to reach the point of building a jury rigged portal.<br/>
The idea had come from both of them. Wilson's blueprints were more fanciful but with the big idea that Maxwell's more meticulous ones were missing. Maxwell had an excellent understanding of how the magic worked in the Constant, and Wilson had a much better idea of what might be needed and such. His sketches were… over the top but gave Maxwell the missing pieces he needed.<br/>
</p><p>"It's done," Maxwell said simply to Wilson.<br/>
</p><p>"Yeah. I never thought I'd be working on a project with you again," the scientist joked lightly, stroking his beard.<br/>
</p><p>"And this thing...is going to bring more people into our world?"<br/>
</p><p>"Theoretically speaking. Only one way to find out!" Wilson answered, chipper as ever.<br/>
</p><p>Maxwell found he couldn't move his legs.<br/>
Fear. An odd fear. One that was familiar and foreign at the same time. But it was the fear of <em>Them<em>, of the portal unintentionally tearing a hole to Them, rather than through worlds.<br/>
</em></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <em>"Flip the switch, pal," he said, falling back onto memories and simpler behaviors.<br/>
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>This time, Wilson didn't need prompting. He walked up, turned a lever, and then ran back to Maxwell.<br/>
It took a moment, but the portal did work. There was a flash of light, before three more people walked into the world.<br/>
Maxwell recognized each. The mime, the little blonde girl and the strongman.<br/>
vWilson didn't. These people were strangers to him.<br/>
Before there was any introductions, the portal shattered, marble columns plowing through the wooden ones, vines wrapping around a new arch with an eye.<br/>
"....I suppose Charlie is announcing herself," Maxwell said to the small gathering, smiling as welcomingly as he could.<br/>
Of course, he was meant with glares.<br/>
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em></em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>Wilson jumped in, his smile far more nervous and less confident.<br/>
"Uh, hello everyone, I'm Wilson, and that's ,uh as you probably know, Maxwell," he started, fidgeting, anxious, "We thought if we're all trapped here in the Constant under new rule, then why not work together?"<br/>
</p><p>"...with him?" The strongman - Wolfgang, Maxwell recalled- said first.<br/>
</p><p>"Yes! Kind of. You don't need to like him, only tolerate him!" Wilson said, trying to reassure the three.<br/>
</p><p>"I can do that," the girl said, voice quiet and soft. Maxwell recognized her as Wendy - the one with the twin sister. Which left...the mime. Wes. Who shrugged, and was already wandering slightly off to gather materials.<br/>
</p><p>"Is fine with me. As long as he stay away," Wolfgang said, giving a curt nod before joining Wes.<br/>
That left Wendy to linger near Wilson and Maxwell.<br/>
The two men shared a look.<br/>
</p><p>"I'm hungry," she said softly, looking  up at them.<br/>
They both reached into their pockets and backpacks, and both ended up holding out a hand of berries and seeds to her. She took both of them gratefully, before looking around and beginning to pick flowers.<br/>
</p><p>"Maxwell," Wilson said slowly, as the small girl wandered off, "You brought children here?"<br/>
</p><p>"Its...a very long story, scientist."<br/>
</p><p>"You're going to have to talk my ear off with it one day soon."<br/>
</p><p>They managed to convince the three to head back to their base (which was not far), to sit down, have a meal and plan out what to do next. Undoubtedly there would be more people arriving- otherwise Charlie would have destroyed the portal.<br/>
</p><p>They would need to welcome those who came next.<br/>
</p><p>Maxwell sighed, staring at his gloves. The new three avoided him- especially Wolfgang and Wes. Wendy seemed less opposed to being near him, but she did not seek him out by any means.<br/>
The sooner he got out of here, the sooner he could stop feeling the glares of everyone.<br/>
He didn't want this. He was playing by Their rules when he sat on the Throne. Yes, maybe… the power had been intoxicating. Had been wonderful.<br/>
</p><p>But it wasn't worth this.<br/>
</p><p>Not really. Not when he could feel that wave of self pity and hatred rising in him, not when he had to stomp it out with his own persona of confidence and arrogance and pride and sarcasm.<br/>
Nothing was worth the glare of a young girl who was brought into a world of torment by him.<br/>
Maxwell stared at the flames licking the sky.<br/>
There was still others to arrive.</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
        <em></em>
      </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Monster Child</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(Wolfgang is a bit off-character here but dont worry! He's all bark and no bite, and just very weary.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He had gone out to gather wood and mine for the small group of five that they were. Their base camp had grown since the other three’s arrival a fortnight ago. There was flooring and a carpet now, walls being built from stone, a wooden fence surrounding their farm and Wolfgang was even working on taming a Beefalo or two.</p><p>    Of course, that meant they needed more supplies. Maxwell usually handled the material- thanks to his shadow clones he was the fastest. Food gathering was usually left to Wendy and Wes, although the adults felt safer if Wendy stayed close to the base. That left Wilson and Wolfgang for hunting and protecting the camp from monsters. </p><p>    Him and Wilson, of course, worked on certain projects as well- as of right now they were working towards a shadow manipulator. Wilson maintained an odd… comradery with Maxwell.</p><p>    Well, at the very least, it was odd to him.</p><p>    He sighs, watching as the sun began to set. He would be stuck out here, in the forest, for the night. Thankfully there were no spider nests nearby, and he had brought a lantern. He, Wilson and Wolfgang had made a quick trip into the caves to retrieve some items- namely the light bulbs, and some nightmare fuel.</p><p>    It wasn’t so bad being alone at night. Charlie was always watching, waiting, but with a light to stave off the darkness, it was no problem.</p><p>    Occasionally, he would talk into the night, wondering if she heard him. He looks up, towards the sky and it’s few stars. The moon was a sliver crescent this night, evergreens barely silhouetted against the dark sky.</p><p>    A fine night to be alone.</p><p>    Maxwell often found himself sitting away from the others around the campfire at their base, trying to keep his distance. To get away, to have an excuse to be alone, away from the glares, from the judgement- it was relieving. </p><p>    He had never thought that company would be this pressuring, but he wasn’t sure what else he had expected. Everyone in the Constant - besides the merm and pigs- had been brought here by him. Of course they hated him. Of course they shunned him. What else had he wanted? Acceptance? He was lucky to receive the tolerance he did.</p><p>    So, sometimes, he found himself wishing for the escape of the forest or fields at night, alone, with a lantern and only shadow puppets to keep him company.</p><p>    He wasn’t entirely sure if it made him feel better or worse.</p><p>He wasn't sure why he cared so much about the group liking him and approving of him. It wasn't like he needed it. It wasn't like he actually cared that much for any of them.</p><p>...company had been making him feel and act and think strange. It was seeing people after so long alone surely. </p><p>Maxwell sighed, looking down again, to survey the night. There was nothing to do but wait until the morning, really. </p><p>Then he squints, spotting a light in the distance. It was far too bright to be fireflies. It had to be a campfire. </p><p>Another survivor, perhaps? One that had come through the portal? They hadn't set up a guard or anything, but had left a sign for those who came through. He was rather close to the portal anyway, so perhaps it was someone new.</p><p>He picks up the lantern, and begins towards the light. It was best to see who it was now, and maybe...warn them about his presence around here.<br/>
The fire wasn't as far as it looked. It was a simple little thing, logs gathered next to it. The owner of the campfire had their back turned to Maxwell, huddled in a straw roll left by the other survivors for anyone coming through. </p><p>Maxwell approached quietly, stepping into the light. The figure seemed to flinch and twitch, but not at his arrival. He looked a bit closer and felt his heart sink.</p><p>A spider where a boy's head should be. Fuzzy fur covering his limbs, and a figure malnourished and small even for a child. Webber- the monster child. </p><p>He hadn't ever wanted Webber to end up the way he had. It was a painful story to look back on, one that even during his reign he hated to remember. He was just thankful the boy seemed happy enough to have a second chance at life. </p><p>Webber twitched again, the legs of the spider flailing.</p><p>    He was having a nightmare.</p><p>Maxwell stood there, rooted to the spot for several moments. He had very little experience with children. There had been some at his shows and occasionally he would call on them for help, but outside of that, well. He barely knew the basics of taking care of a child. </p><p>Well. If it were him we would want to be awaken from the nightmare. He crouched down and gently shook the boy's shoulder. And then again, and once more.</p><p>Webber woke silently, eyes snapping open and spider legs stiffening. He blinked blearily in the firelight and then his eyes focused on Maxwell. </p><p>"What?" He said quietly, confused.</p><p>"You were having a nightmare, child," Maxwell said simply, standing up and away. </p><p>"...thanks for waking me, but uh, why?" Webber sounded sincerely confused. </p><p>"I suppose I would want to be awoken if I was having a nightmare." </p><p>"Oh," the boy said quietly. He sat up, and then looked at Maxwell. "You can stay." </p><p>Maxwell gives a curt nod, opting to sit on the other side of the fire. He didn't think Webber would want him very near, considering what had happened.</p><p>A silence fell between the two. Webber watched the flames,  seemingly deep in thought. His spider legs twitched every so  often, scratching his head, or simply flexing. His knees were drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them.</p><p>"You're not all bad, then," he said, still quiet. </p><p>"What do you mean?" Maxwell asked, slightly confused. </p><p>"You woke us up.You didn't try to attack us in our sleep. Guess you can't be all bad," Webber explained, shrugging. </p><p>"Ah," Maxwell said awkwardly, "Thank you."</p><p>Webber shrugged again, seemingly indifferent to that reply. </p><p>Maxwell felt some...whelling of emotion in his chest. Happiness, perhaps, at the approval of a child.<br/>
And disgust. Disgust that he needed and craves that approval, disgust that he brought this child here disgust that Maxwell himself existed.<br/>
And an apprehension. A backing away from being called good, from the approval.</p><p>As if he felt like he didn't deserve it. </p><p>"There is a base camp, not far from here. And others as well- we would be happy to have you stay with us," Maxwell offered after a moment, shoving those feelings down.</p><p>"Others?" </p><p>"Other people. We built a portal to bring other survivors here, and although Charlie has changed it slightly, it appears it still works. There are five of us, including myself." </p><p>"....other people," Webber said slowly and then nodded."I'll come with you." </p><p>A silence fell again. Maxwell added another log to the fire, and Webber shuffled closer, rubbing his arms. The child was clearly cold. The legs on his head drew inwards, making himself smaller. Maxwell glanced around and then sighed. He stood up, and Webber seemed to shy away from his frame.</p><p>Maxwell dug a fur roll from his bag, and draped it around and over Webber. He didn;t say a word while doing this, and neither did the child, but the young boy looked grateful. And warmer.</p><p>“There,” Maxwell muttered, sitting back down.</p><p>“Thanks,” Webber said quietly. He didn’t sleep, but Maxwell caught the child dozing on and off while staring at the flames.</p><p> </p><p>Webber was… generally well received at the camp. Wilson found Webber interesting, scientifically speaking, and Maxwell had a suspicion that man couldn’t bring himself to be truly rude to anyone. And although Wendy was reserved, she showed joy at having someone near her own age in the camp.</p><p>Asfor Wes… well, Maxwell had trouble reading that man’s emotions. He was mute, entirely, and Maxwell hadn’t yet learned sign language.<br/>
He intended too, though. The others were making an effort, and Wilson had come pretty far. He translated for the group, saying Wes was happy enough to have another hand on deck.</p><p>“He is spider!” Wolfgang exclaimed, cornering Maxwell privately while they were escorting Webber. </p><p>“He is also a child,” Maxwell pointed out, tapping his foot impatiently.</p><p>“And monster.”</p><p>“...a child, Wolfgang. Like it or not, he is staying.”</p><p>“What about his ‘friends’?” Wolfgang asked, jutting a thumb towards Webber, who was holding his spider eggs and looking for a place to plant them.</p><p>“As long as they are far from us, pal, they are staying too.”</p><p>“Fine,” Wolfgang conceded, muttering. Despite his objections, he kept a close eye on Webber- whether out of fear of his ‘friends’ or out of concern, Maxwell couldn’t tell.</p><p>Maxwell couldn’t tell for himself, either. Did he watch the boy because he was worried for the child’s well-being or for his own?<br/>
Whatever the case, it didn’t stop him from picking up on the fact that Webber had clearly heard something. Maybe it was the twitch of the boy’s spider-legs, or the way his head tilted towards the two adults.</p><p>Or maybe it was the fact he was walking further and further away at an alarming pace.</p><p>Maxwell looks at Wolfgang, then back to the child. There was a need in him, deep in him, to follow Webber, to talk to him, but.<br/>
He had nothing to gain from it, really. He could just stay a distance away as the boy looked for a place for his spiders. Him and Wolfgang followed behind Webber, never letting the child stray out of view for long.</p><p>Yes, technically, the children here in the Constant could take care of themselves. They were all able to. But the adults had a tendency, perhaps innate, to make sure the kids didn’t get hurt. Wendy was usually escorted as well, although they let her wander further when Abigail was out.</p><p>Still they were children. And maybe some small part of Maxwell wanted to show the group he did care for them…even if he had brought them to this world in the first place. </p><p>It was just to keep up appearances. Yes. Surely. </p><p>He still watches Webber with a close eye as the young boy planted the spider egg, frolicking around the webbing in joy.</p><p>…children. He sighed, shaking his head. He had brought children here. </p><p>Why was it, now that he was off of the Throne, he felt so conflicted?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Small Sickness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Things were going smoothly, it seemed. Webber had made fast friends with everyone at the camp, and seemed especially happy to have found out there was another child at the base. </p><p>Maxwell was oddly pleased to see the young boy so gleeful, and making friends. Although the child was often with his spiders, he seemed to sincerely enjoy the others company. It was a good thing. </p><p>He nodded to himself as he added another log to the fire. They had begun to maintain it throughout the day as it got colder- they were nearing winter. It was good to have a near constant heat source as everyone worked to make winter clothes for everyone else. The children took priority there- Webber was already sporting a winter hat and a thermal stone. </p><p>He looked up as he heard footsteps. Wendy was approaching, clutching her thermal stone close. Wolfgang and Wilson had gone to find more beefalo fur to make her a winter hat as well. </p><p>She was sniffling. And shivering. </p><p>For whatever reason, Maxwell immediately felt… protective over her. Clearly the girl was sick- it was only natural to want to help her. Right? </p><p>She didn't say anything, but say close to the fire, pulling the cut log they had for a chair closer to the flames. </p><p>Maxwell watches her, under the pretense of stoking the fire. She was still shivering, her nose running. </p><p>But of course, she wasn't going to say anything. Wendy rarely seemed to ask for things, even if they were things she needed. She took gifts and items from the group with a feigned casual indifference. She made a point of doing things by herself, from setting up traps, to skinning rabbits, and providing silk for her own tent. </p><p>All in all, Maxwell would say she had a fierce independence streak caused by an upbringing wherein she had taken care of herself.</p><p>He had a good read on all of the survivors, and even more so now that they were together. He had watched them all in the Constant, seen how they acted alone. It had taken some time to put things together and figure out how they interacted together, but now watching it all… he couldn't help but to feel his chess metaphors made sense. </p><p>He sighed a little, watching Wendy. She wasnt going to say anything, but he couldn't watch her shiver and sniffle like that. Something yanked at him to address her sickness. </p><p>"You look very cold," he commented idly. </p><p>"It's getting close to winter," she countered.</p><p>"You're sniffling an awful lot, child." </p><p>"Like I had stated, winter is closing in." </p><p>"Hm. Well look," Maxwell said, standing and shrugging off his suit jacket, "If winter is coming, you might as well take my jacket until we get you a hat." He tried to present the idea in a reasonable way, and did not mention her cold. </p><p>"I suppose that is practical," Wendy muttered, taking his jacket and throwing it around her shoulders. Her shuddering became less pronounced, and although she had inched closer to the fire, she at least looked somewhat warmer. </p><p>"You look warmer," he muttered, satisfied for the moment. He'd make her something to eat soon enough, to help with the cold. "Where is Abigail?" Usually the ghost followed Wendy around. </p><p>"In her flower. A group of Batislisk attacked us," Wendy said softly. She patted one of her pockets, where she must be keeping Abigail's flower. The ghost wouldn't be back for a few more days. </p><p>"You and her are nigh inseparable," he said softly, looking towards the stars. He wondered how his brother was- didn't he have two daughters? </p><p>"I suppose we are," Wendy agreed,pulling his jacket closer, "I… I do tend to get lonely when she is away."</p><p>The words were said so quiet that Maxwell almost thought had imagined them. Wendy was not one to open up about things- it startled him that she had made that decision to trust him. </p><p>"I can imagine. I," he looked at her, and then hung his head, "I have seen you two, in the Constant. I have seen you without her. She brings a certain liveliness to your person." </p><p>He had nearly said sorry.</p><p>"...ah, yes," Wendy said, suddenly reminded of just who the man in front of her was. "Did you watch us all the time?" </p><p>"No. No, I didn't. Contrary to the popular belief, I let you all have alone time," Maxwell replied, almost immediately. Why did he feel the need to defend himself?</p><p>Or was he trying to comfort this child? </p><p>"That is good to know." Despite all her efforts, Wendy did look somewhat soothed by Maxwell's words. She stared into the fire for a long moment, letting the silence sit between the two like a familiar animal.</p><p>"Keep that jacket when you go to bed. We don't have enough fur for fur rolls yet, and the nights are always colder," Maxwell finally said, adding another log to the fire.</p><p>"To keep the winter bite at bay. Thank you, Maxwell," Wendy replied. There was a ghost of a smile there, like she understood exactly what he was doing. </p><p>"Don't mention it," he muttered. "Before you go, child, would you like something warm to drink?" </p><p>"...yes," she said slowly, surprised by the offer. Maxwell grunts, grabbing a lantern and standing. It only takes him a few minutes to find some of their honey, and a few butterfly wings. He grabbed some tea leaves as well- he had no clue where they came from, but he wasn't complaining- and two mugs. </p><p>He prepared Wendy's with the honey and wings mixed in, to hell with her sickness. Maxwell knew the girl probably wouldn't accept one of their salves or poultice, but this would be the next best thing. </p><p>"I mixed in some honey and butterfly wings- my throat always get dry and sore in this weather, and the wind makes my make run," he explained, placing her mug in her hands. His, of course, was just the Earl Grey tea. </p><p>"Ah. Sensible," she remarked, sipping on the drink. It already seemed to give her some of her liveliness back, bringing more color into her pale face. Good.</p><p>He wasn't sure why he did that. But it felt...right. Disgusting. </p><p>He sipped his, but slower, waiting mostly for Wendy to finish. It didnt take very long.</p><p>"I bid you goodnight," she said, rising and leaving. </p><p>"Sleep well," he called after her. He hoped the others would be able to get her something warm soon. It would do no good if one of them fell ill with a fever, let alone one of the children. </p><p> </p><p>He fretted about telling the others. He wasn't sure if they would dote on her or not but eventually, he decided at least one other adult needed to know about Wendy's cold. Or fever. Or flu. He still didn't know what it was.</p><p>It was later into the day when Wilson and Wolfgang returned. Thankfully they made a hat for Wendy right away, as well as a few fur rolls for the chiller nights. After completing that, the two men went separate ways to complete their chores.</p><p>Maxwell made the choice to approach Wilson. The scientist seemed to tolerate him more than the strongman, at least for the time being. Wilson was tinkering with something, his back turned to Maxwell, sitting on a roughly hewn log stool. He pulled a lever on the machine in front of him and then scratched his head.</p><p>Maxwell cleared his throat, not wanting to disturb the man, but needing to get his attention.</p><p>Wilson didn't look up, instead staring at a paper in his hand. </p><p>"Higgsbury," Maxwell said, tapping his foot a little. </p><p>"Oh- huh, oh, hi Maxwell," Wilson greeted, looking up and giving a friendly wave. "What do you need? Something from the machine? I'm trying to work out a few things so it might take a while."</p><p>"Nothing science related," Maxwell answered, "I… I need to speak to you about Wendy."</p><p>"Is she hurt?" The concern and worry bleed into his voice- Wilson clearly cared a lot for Wendy. </p><p>"No. But she is sick," Maxwell held up a hand to ease the torrent of questions that would've otherwise come out of the scientist's mouth, "I do not know how badly. I gave her some tea and honey last night, and saw to it that she was kept warm. However… we both know that Wendy is, ah, very determined to be independent. I think asking or showing too much interest in whatever she has caught may set her off. She may deny any of our hell if we appear… overbearing."</p><p>"Oooh," Wilson said in realization, "So we have to be sneaky about it." </p><p>"Yes,"Maxwell agreed, shrugging off the word 'sneaky'. He would've used stealthy, but that was hardly the problem here.</p><p>"I'll give her the tea you made her last night- honey, and anything else?" Wilskn had already started to stand.</p><p>"Butterfly wings. Make a cup for yourself as well, and ask her first. Ask the whole camp." </p><p>"You seem to have a lot of experience in this," Wilson pointed out. </p><p>"In dealing with independent children? Hardly. But do remember, pal, I watched all of you. I know you all," Maxwell replied, tugging on the sleeves of his jacket.</p><p>"Makes sense," Wilson said, shrugging slightly. He wasn't going to let it rest, not really, when he could see golden hairs still lingering on his jacket. </p><p>But he could have the decency to remain quiet about the fact that Maxwell sincerely cared about and for others.</p><p>Maxwell denied the cup of tea, but Webber and Wolfgang had both wanted some. He heard Wendy agree as well, and smiled to himself. He had a feeling that would work- he had watched the survivors, afterall.</p><p>And besides. Wendy reminded him of his family, in some ways- struggling to prove all she needed in the world was her sister.</p><p>It made him think of his brother.</p><p>He shook his head, waving a hand as he set out to gather more wood for the fire that night, and more stone. They would need all the resources they could get with winter coming. </p><p>And maybe the physical labour would distract him.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Fishy Business</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maybe,just maybe, he did this work because he wanted to be wanted. He stared at his hands for a long moment. Sure, he didn’t do all of the work- he had his shadow clones do a fair amount for him. But he still needed to chop trees, mine rocks, and dig things up. If one clone was chopping, he was mining. It was a give and take.</p><p>Maxwell sighed, dropping his hands to his knees again. The faint light of their campfire filtered through his tent, giving him just enough light to see by. </p><p>Yes. Perhaps he wanted the others in the camp to want to have him be around, to miss him in some capacity when he was gone. Perhaps he wanted to be valued. To be someone… worthwhile, in some measure.</p><p>There was a shuffle from outside, surely just one of them adjusting the fire.</p><p>He lets himself fall back on his roll, staring at the roof of the tent. It was so strange, not being in control anymore. It was new, and odd, and he had no clue what to make of it.</p><p>He was one of the survivors now.</p><p>Maxwell gave a dry chuckle at the irony of everything. He had made Charlie the night monster, he had made the Constant, he had been it’s ruler.<br/>And now here he was.</p><p>Another sound from outside. He sat up, brow furrowed. It didnt sound like one of the others- it sounded more like something hostile.</p><p>Just as the thought crossed his mind, he heard Wolfgang cry out, raising the alarm. Maxwell was the first out of his tent, his Codex clutched in one hand, a spear in the other.  Wilson stumbled out of his next, looking considerably more haphazard than Maxwell. </p><p>Wendy and Webber were the last to come out. Webber made a beeline for his spiders, which weren’t far, while Wendy clutched her own weapon. Abigail had yet to be summoned from ehr flower again.</p><p>“What is it?” Wilson asked, still on guard, looking to Wolfgang.</p><p>“Something with scales,” Wolfgang muttered, “Green.”</p><p>“A merm? This far from the swamp?” Maxwell said, incredulous.</p><p>“It’s possible. I’ve noticed merms will travel quite far for food,” Wilson said.</p><p>“Ah,” Maxwell mumbled. He hadn’t made the merms- they had been in the Constant when he arrived. He knew about them to a lesser degree than his own creations. </p><p>“Fishy men are hungry, yes?” Wolfgang chimed in.</p><p>“Probably,” answered Wilson.</p><p>“Then we be careful.”</p><p>There was a nodding of heads. Maxwell turned to see if Webber had made it back yet- only a moment or two had passed. The child should’ve found his spiders by-</p><p>There was the ever so familiar hissing from a spider, and a yelp from Webber.</p><p>“No, wait, friends!” Maxwell could barely make out Webber, holding a torch and trying to shoo his spider friends away from another figure holding a torch- an older woman by the looks of it.</p><p>He marched over, grabbing a lantern on the way. The older lady had to be Wickerbottom- there was a book in her hands, and that stern bun of grey hair, and the glasses, of course. </p><p>“Then get them off of me,” she huffed, brushing spider hairs from her skirt.</p><p>“I’m trying!” Webber exclaimed, finally pushing his friends away from Wickerbottom. He gave a smile, and held out his hand. Wickerbottom took it, giving a firm handshake.</p><p>“Who might you be?”</p><p>“I’m Webber! The spiders, they’re my friends. We’re happy to meet you, really!” the child was excitable as always, if a little nervous about his first impression.</p><p>“Hm. Your friends could do with some manners, she said, a small smile crashing her face. Webber giggled and was about to say something when they both caught sight of Maxwell.</p><p>“I hate to interrupt,” he said. “But Wolfgang said he saw something fishy out here. A fish man. You’re hardly one of those.” he bites back an insult, opting to switch the lantern and spear in his hands.</p><p>“No, I should think I’m not,” Wickerbottom muttered. “I am Ms.Wickerbottom. No need to introduce yourself- I already know who you are.”</p><p>Maxwell holds in a small sigh. Everyone knew who he was. And really, they didn’t need to introduce themselves to him- he had brought them here.</p><p>“We can cover the introductions later,” he said, gesturing to the forest, “First, I need to know if anything followed you.”</p><p>“I was chased by some merms. They should be lost by now.”</p><p>“Should? We have limited resources and children, Wickerbottom-”</p><p>“I never knew you to care about children, Maxwell,” Wickerbottom interrupted. “How did that happen?” there was suspicion in her voice, in her gaze.</p><p>“I will explain my circumstances later, Wickerbottom. We need to make sure those merms don’t get to the camp. Webber, come back to the camp, I’m sure your friends can do fine.” Maxwell looked at the spider nests- there were three nearby, one of which looked like it was heading into tier three.</p><p>“If I hear them get hurt, I’m coming to help!” Webber insisted, but he was already walking the short distance to the base. Maxwell followed, leading Wickerbottom back as well.</p><p>Wilson, Wolfgang and Wendy were all near the firepit, Wolfgang and Wilson squinting into the darkness. They started when they saw an extra person with Webber and Maxwell.</p><p>Wickerbottom explained herself briefly, although she seemed… perturbed by the lack of formalities and explanations. </p><p>“If they’re still in the forest maybe we should scout,” Wilson suggested.</p><p>“But kids. Camp,” Wolfgang countered, wiggling his spear at the fire.</p><p>“We could have someone stay behind,” Maxwell said.</p><p>“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Wilson clapped his hands together. “Wolfgang, i think you should scout for sure. Wendy and Webber you’re staying here- I don’t want either of you getting lost or hurt.”</p><p>“And I need to look after my friends,” Webber added.</p><p>“That too. So that leaves Wickerbottom and Maxwell,” Wilson concluded, turning to the two older people.</p><p>“I can’t sleep anyway. And a rest would do my bones good- besides, I can read to the children. I’ll say,” Wickerbottom said. She found a seat on one of their logs, and gestured for the children to sit as well. The promise of a story had done it’s trick- the kids sat with no fuss. </p><p>Maxwell gives a curt nod, before heading off in a direction. Wolfgang went the exact opposite of him, while Wilson went in the middle of the two. </p><p>The sounds of the forests late at night was something Maxwell had come to get used to. It was oddly soothing, even. Birds, moles, spiders. The usual night creatures. They filled the gaps between the trunks of the trees with their sounds, almost keeping him company in the dark as he went forth with his spear.</p><p>There was an usual rustle coming from the direction of the camp. He squinted, brows furrowing at the noise. </p><p>Wickerbottom was there. Her books had some sort of magic to them, like his. The kids would be safe, surely.</p><p>He forged on, but going further and further felt more and more like a bad idea. He listened intently for more rustling, on high alert.</p><p>It was a good thing he was. He heard it again, and then it was followed by a yelp. Immediately he started to charge his way back to the camp, but the sounds already made it obvious what was happening. Heavy footfalls, clumsy now, the odd gurgling noises, the slap of wet scales on mud- the merms must have ambushed the camp.</p><p>He was panting by the time the camp was in sight, and he could already see that Webber’s spiders were fighting, and Wickerbottom was scrambling for a book. Wendy was doing her best,but she was trying to get Abigail’s flower- it was blooming and ready to release her sister again.</p><p>Maxwell watches the ensuing chaos, ready to dive in and help Wilson and Wolfgang, who had also just arrived, before he spotted something.</p><p>A small merm, reading what looked to be a picture book, under a tree.</p><p>He was about to say something when he heard Webber scream as a spider jumped onto a merm’s face. He had work to do.</p><p> </p><p>They managed to drive the merms away, killing a good amount of them. At the very least, it would supply food for some time for them. Maxwell sighs, sorting out the things that had been moved or damaged during the fight. The log benches were okay, but a few of their chests had been damaged, and they needed new ones.</p><p>The others were busy cooking some of the fish and frog legs in a crock pot, or drying them on drying racks. He looked towards the fire, and decided to put another log on it. The night wouldn’t be over for some time.</p><p>As he turned, he spotted scales. Squinting, he looked into the distance, seeing a merm, under a tree. But they weren’t moving. </p><p>It looked like they were reading. Was it the same merm from before the fight escalated?</p><p>He walked over, picking up his lantern on the way in case he needed it. No need to risk Charlie’s ire.</p><p>The merm didn’t look up as he arrived. They were indeed, reading a book. Beside them was some of the food that had been lost during the fight- sweet things, mostly. A absent hand reached for more, stuffing it into their face as they read.</p><p>“Excuse me,” Maxwell said, leaning down a little. The merm jumped- their eyes went even rounder at the sudden voice.</p><p>“Scale-less?” the merm sounded curious, but highly cautious.</p><p>“I suppose. What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Reading, florp!” they exclaimed, tapping the book. He wasn’t sure if they could actually read.</p><p>“That book is one of ours,” he said. “Can I have it back?</p><p>“No!” the merm pulled the book closer, looking defensive. His eyes trailed to the horns… not singular, horn -the other was broken- on their head. A merm warrior then, and a young one at that.</p><p>“Why not?” he sighed, exhausted.</p><p>“I not done!” </p><p>“... fine. Take it back with you.” Maxwell mostly wanted to go back to bed. He began to walk away.</p><p>“Wait! You… you scale-less have more?” The merm poked the book, trailing after Maxwell.</p><p>“A few. Why? Shouldn’t you be with the other merms?”</p><p>“Others don’t have book,” the merm said. “Merms make fun of me.”</p><p>Maxwell looked over his shoulder at the little merm. They… they were just a child. If he squinted, they were even similar to a human child. He sighs, long and drawn out.</p><p>“Okay. Fine. But you have to listen to us, and make sure your… friends do not attack us.” He gave in to the merm’s requests. </p><p>Well. That made three children. Four, if you counted ghosts.</p><p>“Thank! Thank you!” the merm said, nearly bouncing with joy. “Name is Wurt!”</p><p>“I am Maxwell,” he said, leading the way back to the camp. “The others will introduce themselves.”</p><p>… he had to be going soft at this rate.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Heya! Just to explain the use of they/them pronouns- I headcannon the merms don't have any secondary sex characteristics (or if they do, it shows up after puberty). Therefore in their culture they default to they/them pronouns and don't really consider gender until puberty hits (and also, a fun bonus from fish- I headcannon merms, like some fish, can randomly change gender!)</p>
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